


"under the seams runs the pain."

by notjustmom



Series: "You remember too much..." [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Not a Mary Verse, Post return, Scars, angst with a bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:38:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: a few weeks after Sherlock's return





	1. Chapter 1

John turned from his laptop to study the man curled up quietly on the couch, lost in thought it would appear to most people, but he knew from experience that Sherlock wasn't thinking - he was hiding.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just - you're different. I know -"

"No. You don't."

"You're right. I don't know anything." John turned back to his laptop and stared at the empty screen for an hour, the words weren't coming today.

"What do you want to know?" Sherlock asked quietly as the daylight faded into early evening.

"I don't know, to be honest. I just thought if you - if you wanted me to know, you would tell me."

"Why would I tell you?" His voice was rough, but somehow gentle, even as his words seemed to snarl back at him.

"I just -"

"Did you talk to any of the people they sent in to talk to you when you were recovering from being shot in Afghanistan?"

"Of course not. But -"

"It's different somehow?"

"I want to-"

"Help? And you think if I tell you what it was like - if you see - will it help me to go back to being the arsehole I was before?" 

"No -"

"Or relieve you of whatever misplaced sense of guilt you have been holding onto?"

"That's not -"

"It was never your fault, John. I will never tell you what I went through, what I did to get back to you, because I can't. Do you understand? I thought of anyone I knew, you would understand, you would be the one who would treat me the same as you used to. But you're afraid to touch me. Like I'm going to break or -"

"Vanish. I'm afraid if I touch you, you'll be gone. I used to dream of you - no, dream is the wrong word because I rarely slept enough to dream. You would sit in your chair, well, perch, as you used to - and you would roll your eyes at me and tell me it was time to go to work, or that we were out of milk again. And I knew you weren't real. I knew it, but it didn't matter - no. I know all of the physiological and psychological reasons for what I saw, but you were there, and I would move to get closer, or reach for you and you'd vanish. I know you're truly here now, but, I don't know how to touch you anymore. You won't let me - as if you believe you are too damaged, I - all I want is to be able to hold you, be with you. You have to know -" 

John looked up to see Sherlock standing in front of him. "You don't know, do you, that it doesn't matter - it matters, yes, I know - but it - damn. I still want - but if you don't want me - it's fine. We went for so long without - I just want to be the one who knows you, Sherlock, knows all of you, love. I never stopped loving you -"

Sherlock shrugged out of his dressing gown, then slowly undid the top button of his shirt, but his fingers fumbled with the next one.

"Let me?" John whispered, as he stood up and laid his hand over Sherlock's.

Sherlock bit his lip, but nodded, then closed his eyes as John gently unbuttoned the cuff and raised Sherlock's right wrist to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to the scars that had been hidden from him. John stopped as he felt Sherlock tremble under his touch. "I'm sorry, love. If you want me to stop -"

"No. I just - I'm afraid -"

John said nothing but let go of Sherlock's wrist and lifted his own jumper over his head, then removed his vest and placed Sherlock's fingers over his own scar. "Do you remember when you asked me if you could touch me the first time?"

Sherlock nodded. "But it's not the same -"

"You went to war, but you went on your own."

Sherlock leaned into him and took a deep breath, as John wrapped his arms around him gently, and whispered into his hair, "and you survived, Sherlock. You came home, home to me. I know you will never be the same as you were before, I just want to get to know you again, will you let me, love?"

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Please?"

"Yes, love."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and a bit of fluff...

"I used to see you too," Sherlock murmured into John's hair. "It started when I got on the plane. I hadn't even left London, and I was already - I thought - I had stopped thinking, the moment you tried to take my pulse. I knew it was wrong, what I had done - I should have told you, but I couldn't, it was my fault."

"What was?"

"Everything."

"Sherlock -"

"I was playing with fire, even before the Pool, and I knew it, but I was convinced I was better than him, smarter, stronger - but, he didn't care for anyone, including himself, and no one cared for him. He had an advantage, he knew I had something to fight for, someone to live for, but he could end the game anytime he wanted to, and knew I would keep playing if I believed you were in danger, and he was right. He's still in my head - I still have nightmares - that he's still watching, he's still somewhere watching, and I'll never be smart enough or strong enough to protect you from him -"

"He can't hurt us anymore, Sherlock."

"I know that, John, intellectually, in my head, I know - but in my guts, whatever you want to call it - I can't get rid of him. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes." John kissed his chest as he ran his fingers over the jagged scar that ran along his ribs, and felt him shudder. "I'm sorry, love."

"No. I'm sorry - I should have -"

"What? What should you have done?"

"Trusted you. I wanted to. All I could think of from the moment I jumped was coming home to you, but when I came back, all I knew to do was hide from you, I didn't know how to be the person I used to be. The person I thought you would expect me to be."

"I just wanted you back. In one piece, more or less, and by some miracle -" 

Sherlock snorted and John sat up, to see a bit of doubt that still resided in Sherlock's searching eyes. John sighed and kissed him lightly. "Snort if you must. But I asked you for a miracle, I asked you to come back, to stop being dead, and it took a bit of time, but you came back, you came home, Sherlock, and you are still my beautfiful, brilliant, amazing man. One day, you will believe me." 

"You're mad."

"Probably, but I know what I know."

Sherlock chuckled, then kissed John's forehead. "I love you."

"Yeah, I know." He laid back down in Sherlock's arms and grinned as he heard the rumble of Sherlock's laughter. "I love you, too."


End file.
